I'm Sorry I'm Okay - One Shot
by RMSE
Summary: "Suicide doesn't take away the pain. It gives it to someone else." "And I'd call you a hypocrite." Sequel to "I'm Sorry. I love you."


_One shot sequal to I'm Sorry. I love you._

 **WARNING:** Possible triggers ahead. If you are sensitive about suicide or death or self harm, I recommend clicking away immediately.

This is not a love story but one about struggle and being haunted and feeling ultimately defeated.

* * *

It hurt. Everything hurt. Why? There isn't suppose to be any more pain. It's suppose to be gone. I'm suppose to be gone. Why am I here? This pain can only mean one thing and it makes me angry. I open my eyes and I see them, staring and sobbing. My mother wants to hold me, touch me, comfort me, solidify that I'm awake at last, I see it on her face, but my father's hand on her shoulder pins her in place. It's best not to touch me in my state. My eyes move across the way to meet another sorrowful gaze.

Itachi.

He's pissed. He's relieved. He's crying. I've never seen him cry. He's trying to hide it but it's obvious. Same with my old man. It's odd.

The stench of the sterile hospital hits me again and I hate it. I want out. I go to move but I'm instantly scolded through the protests of my parents and brother and my body flares up aggressively in pain. My head throbs to the point my vision blurs and swims and it sends a wave of nausea straight to my stomach, causing me to choke. My cheek, my chin, my lips, my eyes, my stomach, my chest, my neck, my shoulders, my back - everything hurts. Everything is either bruised or cut or swollen or broken. Almost every inch of me is covered in bandages or casting. My limbs, my face, my head - everywhere. My legs are broken. My ribs are broken. My arm is broken. I am broken. My left arm is gone.

My left arm is gone.

I begin screaming hysterically. Nurses and the doctor rush in. I feel a pinch and within seconds I feel my body loosen against my will. I feel like a warm puddle and my mind grows fuzzy and drifts. I dream of you. I see your face. I see your smile but it falls quickly as you look me over. Sadness pools in the corner of your blue eyes and drifts over, streaming down your scarred cheeks and falling off your chin a moment later. I reach with both hands to touch you. I don't want you to cry. Please don't cry.

Only one hand brushes a stream of tears off your face.

 _"Why?"_ Your lips move to question but no sound leaves you.

 _"Why?"_ I ask in return. You don't answer me. You can't. I scream the question again but my voice cracks and suddenly grows horse. I scream it again and again and each time I do, you take another step back. I can't move so I can't follow you. I'm broken. Please, don't leave me.

Don't leave me again.

I tried to follow you. Why can't I follow you?

Weeks pass. I stare at the walls of the bedroom that once belonged to me - the very one you've visited before. I don't want to be in here but here I am. I hate it. I feel sick and nauseous and all of my body still hurts. The medicine from my therapist clashes with the medicine from the hospital. I feel wretched. Despite having nothing in my stomach from not having eaten in days, my body suddenly tries and tries to expel whatever it can. Continuously, I heave. Tears burn at my eyes. I just plea for it to stop. I cough and I choke as I curl over my bedside. My body is again racked with pain from the sudden lurke and I just want to crawl out of my skin. One of my parents' maids barges into my room before quickly disappearing. She fetches Itachi.

He tends to me. He helps me, though I don't want him to.

But I do.

He's been there. He's tried to be. I've been so stubborn. I've repeatedly attempted to push him away and he refuses to accept my whims. He's aggravating. I glare at his face and he pays me no mind as he changes my shirt. The air is stale with silence but I have nothing I want to say to him. He finishes the last button and sits at the edge of the bed, opposite of where I stained the carpet. He hunches, forearms on his knees with fingers interlaced in front of his face.

He sighs deeply.

"Why, Sasuke...?"

I only stare at him.

"Why won't you talk to me...?"

I look center, down the length of my bed.

"I'm trying so hard to understand... But I guess I just don't... ... That was terrifying, Sasuke. That was fucking terrifying... That was horrific." He's so angry and he's trying so hard not to unleash it but it's seeping and I can tell and I don't care. Lecture me. It won't change anything. I will try again. Once I can stand, once I can move, once I am free - I will try again.

There is nothing for me here. I cannot keep on like this. It's impossible. I've tried.

I've tried.

Itachi stays with me for that night but I say nothing to him still. I have not spoken a word since leaving the hospital. The dream I had when they put me under replays over and over in my head relentlessly and keeps playing even when I exhaust myself into unconsciousness. It plagues me. You plague me.

You've become a disease. I failed at curing myself.

Now my family refuses to let me try again.

A month passes and I'm never left alone. I'm fed and hydrated through a tube as I still have no appetite. A nurse tends to my hygiene as I'm still not properly mobile. It's become so very frustrating. I didn't know it was possible but I've become immensely paler than usual. You would laugh. You'd call me a ghost of a ghost.

No. You wouldn't laugh. You'd be mad. You'd be so very mad. You'd yell at me.

And I'd call you a hypocrite.

Why were you able to succeed and I failed so miserably...? This isn't fair.

A year and a half goes by. Pain still consumes my body from time to time. Pain medications are a blessing, though my therapist _advises_ me that it's all simply a mental case - to which I tell him to fuck off. As well, he's become displeased in my new method of soothing my troubles. The red lines across my wrist are blaring against my porcelain complexion but I don't see a reason for him to complain. I'm not pressing hard enough to cause fatal damage. It's my own personal therapy.

Free of charge.

I'd say that's progress, no? Though if I do happen to slice a little too much one day - oh well. I begin to see my therapist less and less simply because he's an annoying nag. I hated going in the first place and he no longer likes to give me the nice medication that keeps my panic attacks at bay but that's alright. It's been quite a long while since I had my last one and I do believe I'm doing better.

The fact I often converse with myself means nothing. I couldn't begin to tell you what my friends are doing still and I haven't spoken with my brother in well over a month, though not for his lack of trying. I travel often and like to keep my cellphone off. I'm sure Itachi is just waiting for a morgue call but tisk, tisk. I've adopted a new outlook on life.

I don't care to live still, but I've more or less stopped trying to die. Rather - I just don't care.

If I die, then I die. If I don't, then there's always next time. I laugh. What a joke.

I'm home in my small, rundown apartment. I down pain meds before I pour myself onto the sofa. I take my pocket knife between my teeth and I slide the blade across my wrist. My teeth grind on the metal casing. A shiver runs through my body as the sensation settles me. I turn my head to the side, drop the knife, then lay my head back. I let out a small, almost content breath. I let my arm rest a few minutes on my leg before I pluck out a small box from my pocket. I light the cigarette between my lips and inhale deeply.

You'd once mentioned how you hated the smell of menthols.

They taste nice.

I slowly blow the smoke to the ceiling and watch as it collects and disperses. I lick my lips.

I bought a motorcycle. A loud one that rips through the air.

You'd once mentioned that you hated the sound they made - that it was obnoxious and unnecessary.

It drives nice.

I take it out for a night ride, blasting well passed the speed limit. Eventually, lights flash behind me. I pull to the side. I backtalk the officer. He asks if I'm high and I ask him to fuck off.

Itachi isn't happy to bail me out. I'm not happy to see him either. I get an earful as he drives me home - except he doesn't take me home. He detours and I protest. He pulls into a park and kills the car before ripping me out of the passenger seat. He shoves me. He yells. He doesn't understand. I tell him he never will and he asks me why.

Why.

The million dollar question!

I laugh and laugh and he looks at me in concern. That's okay. I'm concerned, too.

I begin yelling back but in the midst of my rave, Itachi suddenly grabs my face. I'm startled. His eyes carve into mine and I want to be anywhere but here.

"Why are you crying?"

I still.

What?

"What?"

"Why are you crying?" he repeats for me.

Crying?

"I'm not."

Softly, he moves a thumb and I feel the cold, wet smear on my cheek. He releases me and I take a step back, wiping at my face desperately.

"I'm not," I say again.

"Sasuke..." Itachi begins but I scream.

"I'm not! Shut up!"

His hand strikes out and grabs my wrist, pulling it toward him. "Would you stop this?! Just fucking talk to me, Sasuke! You're not alone!"

"I am!" I scream more. My voice cracks.

"No, you're not!" Itachi growls. He's growing angry again. He's always angry with me. I wish he wasn't angry. I don't want to care that he's angry but I do. I hate it. "I'm here! Mom's here, dad's here - your friends are here, Sasuke!"

"But he's not!"

I can feel him grip my wrist tighter to the point it hurts. I tell him that it does but he doesn't release me. I can feel the panic rising.

No. Not this again. I don't want to have one right now.

"Let go! Let go! Let go of me!" My breaths get sharper. I can't breathe all of a sudden.

Itachi notices. He lets me go and allows me to crumble onto the ground. "Sasuke - calm down! Sasuke, I'm sorry... Ssh - I'm sorry..." He kneels beside me and coddles me like a child. I'm twenty years old now. How awful. "It's okay... It's okay, I'm here... I'm here..."

I sob and sob and sob to the point I feel sick. Hours go by and Itachi continues to hold me.

I have that dream again.

I wake up in my apartment. What happened? I jump when I see Itachi in the doorway of my room. Anger courses through me. I curse at him and throw a pillow at him but he easily catches it and brings it back over, letting it drop onto my head. I'm pissed. I swat him with the damn thing and demand he leaves but he doesn't. I yell more but he only sets his hand on top of my head. I freeze.

"I love you, Sasuke."

My hands shake.

"I understand he was... I understand he was extremely important to you... And I can't begin to comprehend the pain you're feeling... But Sasuke... You are extremely important to me - to us... The pain you are feeling... Do you want us to feel the same?"

My entire being is trembling.

 _Hypocrite._

I do not dare look Itachi in the eyes.

"I don't know why Naruto did what he did... Neither do his parents."

Neither do I.

"But he did love you dearly... And he wouldn't want to - "

"I don't care!" I scream, grabbing clumps of my blanket in my fists. I pull away from his touch and slap his hand away. "I don't give a flying _fuck_ what he would or wouldn't want! He doesn't fucking get a say! He doesn't fucking get one when I didn't fucking have one! Fuck him! If he loved me so fucking dearly then he'd still _be here_! He would've _talked_ to me! He wouldn't have left me with nothing! He wouldn't have... H-He..." My voice breaks off and I can't bring myself to say anything more. My whole body trembles now.

Itachi replaces his hand atop my head. I grit my teeth and cry. Again.

"... I'm sorry... ... I'm sorry, Sasuke."

You're not the one who should be sorry.

I won't forgive you.

I don't hate you, but I won't forgive you.

A couple hours pass. I'm collected again. I apologize to Itachi. I apologize for my behavior. I apologize for the booking incident. I apologize for avoiding him. I apologize for disappointing him and for hurting him. I apologize over and over again. I'm not collected anymore. He holds me again. I wish I could stop feeling like such a child.

A broken record of a child.

We return to my parents the next day. I apologize to them. My mother hugs me. My father hugs me.

I don't think my attempt was a mistake. I don't think my failure to see you again was a mistake anymore. I still expel the pain and I still take the pills - when I need to. I properly return to therapy. I allow Itachi to keep me under a close watch. I didn't allow him to sell my motorcycle, so we argue. I go to punch him but he easily side steps me and I ram my face into a wall. Mom asks why my face seems swollen at dinner and neither me nor Itachi give her a straight answer.

Months pass. Shikamaru is doing well. His kid is nice though seems a bit closed off. Haruno married. She looks so happy. Everyone is doing okay. I'm okay.

I'm okay.

It hurts. It does. It never won't. I accept that. I don't want it to stop. Every time I see my scars in the mirror, I am reminded, as I want to be. I place my hand over my missing arm and remember your face.

I have my father and brother locate a number for me. I contact the man's supervisor. I speak with the man over the phone. I apologize to him sincerely. He cries and says how he's just happy I'm alive.

He's happy I'm alive. Somehow, I find the sentiment strange.

I stay with Shikamaru for a bit while his wife is on a business trip. Shikadai is similar to his father in far too many ways and it makes me wonder how I would've been if I ever had a child. The thought makes me uncomfortable and makes me think of you.

You probably would've been a wonderful dad...

Shikamaru catches the expression on my face and slaps me lazily. I don't even snap at him and simply rub at the spot before mentioning something irrelevant. Shikamaru accepts the subject changes and we move on.

I... move on.

I live - as best I can with the gaping hole you've left in me. I'll forever be only half complete without you, but it's enough to breathe and enough to walk most days...

The therapy is helping. Friends are helping, as well as family.

I'm okay.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry I couldn't see. I'm sorry that you felt that was the only way to be better. I'm sorry about your pain and I'm sorry I couldn't make it go away and that I wasn't enough.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I'm okay and you're not.

I am here. I will be here for you. I will be okay for you.

I will see you again, but not soon.

Wait for me.

I need to know why.

Will you tell me then...?

Naruto.

I love you.

* * *

 **A/N -** I don't know if this can be considered a happy ending or not, and I was halfly reluctant to write this, but quite a few readers were displeased with my lack of sugar coating _I'm Sorry. I Love You_ 's ending, so I wrote this sequel for those who can't stomach a realistic tragic ending. x) I don't tend to write sequels to my one shots - rather, I never have before and I'm not sure how many I'll write in the future, especially for emotional ones. But here is this.


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